


Who The Hell Are You?

by mikeymagee



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard
Genre: Rebirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:50:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeymagee/pseuds/mikeymagee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The God of Stories within the Story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who The Hell Are You?

And so Loki burned…

Cleansed of a dark destiny that wished to shove him in a box and nail the lid shut. He burned away the remnants of an old story, and all that was left…was something new. Something both ancient and current. A story that was yet to be told…and still known to all. 

Loki burned…and I was born from the pages of his abandoned story. 

“Let’s be something new.” 

And I was. We were. No simply the God of lies, but the God of stories. The God of Magic in its purest form. The God of prologues and the bringer of happy endings. 

The God of Gods. 

And what of the Lokis before? What of their tales? The Story of the jealous conqueror who changed the world more through his failure than through his schemes. Who brought together the world’s mightiest heroes in a battle that still echoes across the halls of the universe? What of the little boy who wished to abandon his destiny? Who saved the nine realms from misery with a selfless gesture that ended his tale too soon? What of the young man who, through his wit and pure desire, defied destiny and began again? 

Their stories were deep within my bones, supporting the structures of my veins and bloods. As all stories did. The story of the thunder god and his hammer. The story of the forlorn queen who sought the security of destiny. The story of the murdered frost giant, struck down by his own kin. 

Burning, all was burning. Stripping away the old tales and cleaning the canvas for what was to come. Stories did that. Stories changed with each telling. The story of the Skald changes with each tongue.  
All gone…but three things.

“I have a friend who believes in me. A brother whom I love. And I am my own…”

A voice that set the make up for this new hero.

“These things are right. These things we’ll keep.”

I have a friend? Who was it? The God of Stories had a friend. A confidant. Someone to tell stories to and laugh around the warmed hearth.  
We were friends…apparently.

I have a brother. Someone whom I love…and whom may not love me…but that matters not. Story is the only thing that dares call the storm its brother. For what goes together more completely than a raging storm, and a warm story. 

And finally…I am my own. Stories belong to no one. That’s how they keep their magic. A story cannot be still. A story cannot be paused or caged within the confines of a book. I am a story…nothing can stop what I am…

I know how this kind of story works. How this tale is told. The world below will not know me…not a first. They may have images of what I was, memories of old tellings, but those words will be vague and hard to understand.

Most will simply choose to forget, as if often the way. 

Even I may not recall the tales that came before, of the jealous conqueror, the innocent child, and the man who defied destiny…but their stories are still inside of me. 

The story of Loki has shaped the cosmos over and over…

And now…it shall begin again. 

“Me? I am the God of Stories. I am Loki.”


End file.
